


scars fade (and black light fluoresces)

by catffinatedcriminal



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft - Fandom, SBInc, SleepyBoisIncorporated, sbi - Fandom
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Dadza, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minecraft, Panic Attacks, Ph1lzA minecwaf, SH Scars, Sad Wilbur Soot, Scars, Self Harm, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, sorry wilbur, they're family your honor, wilbur is sad. he is.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:26:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27499399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catffinatedcriminal/pseuds/catffinatedcriminal
Summary: It was supposed to be fun.(includes self harm scars and a panic attack.)
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 44
Kudos: 924





	scars fade (and black light fluoresces)

It was supposed to be fun. 

Phil had promised the group a night out after the trio had all done well on their report cards (though, to be honest, he would’ve let them even if they hadn’t - heaven knows the kids needed a break after working so hard in school), and they had collectively decided on the old roller rink-turned-arcade that was on the edge of town.

Techno, surprisingly, was the one who brought up the idea, mumbling something about how he wanted to see what his hair would look like underneath the neon and black lights. Tommy was immediately in front of him, gesturing wildly and bragging about how he was “going to take Techno down in roller skating, just you watch big man-”, while Wilbur seemed happily content with the idea, if not concerned for the younger pairs’ well being, as none of them had really ever skated before. Wilbur thinks he might have, at one of his previous foster homes, but the memories are smudged and hard to differentiate, so he just hopes that he doesn't fall on his ass in front of his family. 

Tommy would never let him live that down.

The drive to the rink was (thankfully) short, with Tommy purposefully singing off key to a new pop song on the radio nearly the entire way. Wilbur presses his face against the window, looking at the greying skies. Fall was his favourite time of year - sweater weather (his favourite yellow one, to be precise, with a white button down beneath it) but still warm enough to hang outside. Plus, he was a fan of the sounds of rain - it gave his songs a backing track, after all.

Phil eventually turned into the parking lot, grabbing his signature hat from the center console and ducking out of the car. Wilbur thinks he hears Techno mutter a “one more minute and I’d be starting a real minecraft manhunt” under his breath as they walk towards the old glass doors, but he ignores it in favor of looking at the squiggly carpet pattern leading towards the register. 

When he gets to the cashier, Phil pulls out an old card from one of the many folds of his wallet, revealing it to be an artifact from when he had used to come as a highschooler with his friends. 

Wilbur saw the look on Tommy's face and knew the comment was coming before he even opened his mouth.

“Wow. Old man, I didn’t realize you were carrying around museum shit in there”

Wilbur couldn’t help himself. 

“Language”

Techno and Tommy’s replies were instant.

“English.”

“I - oh, shut it - who are you? Fucking BadBoyHalo?”

Phil’s chuckle behind him granted him the satisfaction he’d been looking for, and he followed after Tommy as they walked into the main food court area, Phil trailing behind with a bushel of rented skates. The arcade was fairly empty, given that it was a Thursday afternoon, but Techno seemed to be happy with it, plonking himself down at the nearest plastic bench and taking off his shoes. 

Tommy passed out the skates to each of them, with Wilbur's being black and white (they look like Converse, he noted) Techno’s being classic white, and Tommy’s being white and red, which he was pleased about. 

Phil hadn’t gotten himself a pair, claiming instead that he “had to keep the spot in case anyone tried to take it”, though the empty tables surrounding him seemed to tell another story. Wilbur rolled his eyes and made a jab at Phil’s ‘old joints’ before starting to tug on his skates.

Tommy was the first to get his on, pulling the knot of his laces tight with one final tug, before standing up and shuffling his feet a few times. He pushes off with one foot and drags his toe stop on the carpet, nearly falling face first, but catches himself on a nearby table. 

Wilbur laughs at his “Meant to do that!” and tucks his shoes under the table, standing up with the help of the half-wall dividing the rink and the food court. Techno is right behind him, muttering words to himself that Wilbur couldn’t hear over the upbeat music playing from the speakers overhead. 

They make it to the step down into the rink, with Wilbur noting the way the awful carpet continued around the border and up the walls, before separating into the speckled ceiling tiles. The ceiling lights over the rink were tinted different colors, with the black lights spaced between them, making the people passing under them glow for a moment before they got out of range. Other lights flashed colorfully, and the disco ball in the center of the rink left revolving rainbow squares along the floor.

\----

Wilbur looked over to Tommy, who had managed to get about 10 feet before latching onto the border wall, and then back to Techno, who was standing conveniently out of Tommy’s reach. He chuckled at the pair before pushing his foot sideways, starting to slowly roll forward and holding his arms outward slightly. He found his center of balance pretty quickly, remembering what Eret had told him about ‘leaning forward with your upper body, not your legs’ when he’d asked him in a call earlier that day. 

Techno rolled up behind him with a devious smile on his face, making Wilbur turn to see Tommy flailing his arms around as he tried to rush towards them, before quickly rolling into another wall to stay upright. 

Wilbur called out to him, which earned him an aggressive “fuck off” in return, so he turned back and started to push off a bit faster. He passed under the first black light, and grinned as his undershirt gained a bluish tint that lit up around his neck and wrists. His sweater gave off a light yellow glow, and his teeth seemed to flash as well with his smile. His pants were black, as was his beanie, though the white on the roller skates were glowing, which was good enough for him. 

He rolled past the first light, watching as the blue tint faded from his sleeves. Techno skated up behind him again, passing him slightly on the right before the duo were underneath another black light. Techno laughed as he looked at his and Wilbur’s outfits, before staring at his face with a lopsided smile. 

“You have freckles.”

Wilbur chuckled. “Yes, very astute of you, Techno. Not like we’ve lived together for three years. Glad you’ve noticed.”

Techno huffed lightheartedly, shoving Wilbur’s arm lightly. 

“No, you ass. I meant the light makes your freckles stand out.”

Wilbur tried to look at his nose at that remark, but couldn't see much. Tommy decided to use that moment to bump into the middle of them, wrapping his arms around their shoulders and giving one of his signature laughs.

“I figured it out. I can go really, really fast now - only problem is I can’t stop.”

Techno made a comment about steering, but Wilbur was focused on Tommy's face. He had speckles on his too - acne scars and freckles alike, he looked sort of like a reverse-space, with his face glowing blue and the spots showing a deep purple. Even the spots that had long disappeared from his face were still darker and plainly visible, including the one scar that Tommy had gotten on his forehead, from when he had swung open the kitchen cabinet and gotten hit with a rogue plate.

Wilbur turned his attention to Techno, who he now saw had faint purple dots and splotches covering his cheeks. He looked down at all of their hands, noticing how Techno and Tommy’s nails were glowing white, while his were slightly covered by the remnants of his chipped black polish. Techno chuckled at a comment Tommy made, and then they were out from under the light again. 

They continued around the rink for a while, making awful jokes and laughing when Tommy would need to hastily grab onto one of their hands to slow down before he crashed into a wall. 

They looped back to Phil for snacks, who seemed to be enjoying watching them flail around, and ended up getting some questionable stadium style nachos, if you could call them that. It was processed queso on some round, oversalted tortilla chips, but they still ended up finishing off two of the trays before they began to slip back off towards the rink again. 

Tommy was gone first, jerkily steering around the tables and onto the waxed concrete, with Techno following behind a minute or so later. Wilbur sat with Phil for a while, but was kicked back out to the rink with a groan after his comment that “those chips kinda had the texture of sand, you know-”.

As Wilbur glided back towards the others, the DJ announced that song requests would be starting, as well as the beginning of ‘Blackout Night’. The trio were on the rink when the main lights went out, with only the flashing and black lights remaining, making everything glow much more intensely. Techno’s hair was shockingly neon under the light, with pink strands frizzing up from skating around all night. Tommy’s red and white shirt had turned a bright blue-white, and Wilbur’s white button up was glowing much more brightly at his elbows, having pushed up both layers of his sleeves to relieve him of some of the heat from the rolling-workout. 

\----

Tommy was the one who noticed first. 

“Hey uh, Will?” Tommy’s voice was quieter, and he began to slow down by the curved corner of the wall. 

“What’s up?” Wilbur followed him, turning his skates to a stop as he asked.

Tommy hesitated for a moment, glancing up at the black light he had stopped under and then back at Wilbur.

“What’s up with your arms?”

Wilbur spared a confused look towards Tommy for a moment before looking down at his arms.

He froze. 

His skin was glowing a teal blue, with slashed lines of dark purple and white crossing along the length of his forearms. 

Some were frantic, visibly deeper, while others were thin and calculated lines spanning from one side of his wrist to the other. They looked violent, painful.

The bunched up fabric around his elbows was glowing white, and Wilbur’s mind goes blank.

He remembers bumping into someone as he mumbled something about ‘bathroom’ to Tommy before speeding off to the stairs leading to the bathrooms. He thinks Tommy calls out behind him, but he has slammed and locked the door to the single stall room before he can process anything. He slides to the floor with his back to the wall, and heaves out a shuddering breath.

Wilbur stares at his arms as he rests them on his knees, tracing the barely visible lines along them. They were barely raised, and only slightly lighter than his natural skin color. You wouldn't be able to see them if you weren’t looking, something he was very relieved to find out after his first episode.

‘They weren’t supposed to see them. Tommy wasn’t supposed to see them.’

Wilbur feels choked up. He tries to suck in another breath, but his chest feels constricted and his body is shaking violently. 

‘A panic attack’, his brain supplies as he tucks his head into his knees, hands reaching up to hold onto his hair. He begins to hyperventilate, tears blurring his vision as he curls in on himself. He squeezes into a tight ball for what feels like eternity, shuddering breaths trying to keep out the black spots that had started to dance in his eyes.

\----

The knock on the door startles him and makes him sob harder, his hands shaking as they pull tighter on his hair. 

Another knock. 

And another.

A muffled call. His name?

Another call, closer to the door. He doesn’t know if it’s the door or the ringing in his ears that makes it inaudible. 

There’s a moment of silence before a new voice is at the door. 

‘Techno? No. Too loud. Phil?’

There's a pounding against the door now, and a yell. Something jingles. 

The door handle jiggles a little.

The door swings open slightly, and Phil steps through the door quickly, frantic before his eyes land on Wilbur. He says something to someone outside the door, before closing it behind him. 

Wilbur sees him enter, tears streaking down his face as he struggles to breathe, choked noises coming from his mouth. 

Phil says something, and Wilbur just heaves again as he desperately tries to think. Phil crouches down in front of him, and gently puts his hands on top of Wilburs, lacing them on top and pulling his hands away from his hair. There are a few strands in his hands from where he’d torn them from his scalp. 

Wilbur hears Phil start to speak, his words muffled and distant as he rubs his thumbs in circles along Wilbur’s palms.

It takes him a while before the ringing in his ears subsides and he can take a full breath in. 

He tunes back in to Phil talking in a low voice, telling him how he’s sitting on the floor and counting in 4-6-8 patterns.

Wilbur recognizes the breathing exercise and tries to follow it, squeezing Phil’s hands with his own. Phil keeps counting until Wilbur looks up at him, eyes shining and face blotchy and red. 

Phil opens his arms and Wilbur shuffles into them, clasping at his back like he might disappear if he lets go. 

His sobs turn into deep breaths and eventually into sniffles, and he recognizes the taste of iron in his mouth. He notes the burn of his bottom lip, as well as the fact that he’s back in his socks. Phil must have taken off his skates at some point.

Phil eventually gets Wilbur standing, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and leading the teen out of the washroom. Tommy and Techno are sitting on the floor outside, worried looks on their faces as they hop up to follow Phil out to the car. Tommy had returned the skates already and held Wilbur’s shoes in his hands as he walked. 

The ride home is quiet, and far too tense, but Wilbur is too tired to think about it. Phil leads him up the stairs once they’re through the door, and Wilbur collapses into his bed against his pillows. 

Phil says something he doesn’t catch, and he is out.

\---

Wilbur wakes up sore. His back aches and his legs feel too tight, and his head is pounding. He shifts up into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of his bed, and looks at his alarm clock. 

9:15.

Fuck. He was late for school.

He looks down at his hands, button up shirt uncomfortably riding up his back. 

Button up shirt? Why was he wearing a button up?

Oh. 

Oh, Fuck. 

Wilbur took a shaky breath in as he looked at the sunlight coming through his window. He looks down at his arms, eyes habitually running over the healed, light lines. 

Tommy knows. Techno knows. 

Phil. Phil knows.

He sits on his bed for a while, staring at his arms, before a light knock sounds on his door. 

Phil creaks it open and startles a little when he sees Wilbur up. He sidesteps the door, closing it behind him in a familiar manner, before sitting in the desk chair that he pulls to be in front of Wilbur. 

“Are you feeling better?”

Wilbur pauses for a minute. “I don’t know. I think so.”

“That’s good. Are you okay to talk right now?”

Wilbur nods, his head feeling heavy.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Are you currently self harming?”

Wilbur pauses for a moment before shaking his head.

“When was the last time?”

He fumbles for thoughts. “Few months ago? 6, maybe 7?”

He hears Phil suck a breath in through his teeth. 

“Have you talked to anyone about this?”

Another head shake. 

“Okay. Wil?”

Wilbur freezes for a moment.

‘This is it. This is where he yells at you.’

“I love you. So much. I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier”.

‘What?’

“This is a lot to go through alone. But I need you to know this.” 

Phil’s voice wavers for a minute, and Wilbur looks up to see silent tears running down his cheeks.

“I love you, so, so much. You are my son, and I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. I wish I could have been there for you then, but I am going to be here for you now.”

Wilbur holds out his arms this time, reaching out towards Phil, who readily wraps his arms around Wilbur’s back and brings a hand into his hair. 

The two stay there for a bit until Techno comes upstairs to tell them that breakfast is ready. He looks at Wilbur and gives him a soft smile before walking back downstairs. Phil heads out a few minutes later, with Wilbur changing into comfier clothes. 

They all eventually make their way to the kitchen, Tommy running over to Wilbur and wrapping his arms around his torso the second he sees him. Wilbur hugs him right back, mumbling out a tired apology for scaring him.

Tommy lets go after a while, backing up to look at Wilbur's face.

“You’re my brother, big man. Keep it that way, yeah?”

Wilbur squeezes him in a half-arm hug and smiles down at him before sitting at the kitchen table. 

Techno made chocolate chip pancakes, Wilbur’s favourite. They laugh at one of Tommy's awful jokes, and the day goes on.

\---

Phil sets up a session with a therapist, and Wilbur starts bi-weekly meetings. He reaches out to a few of his closer friends, and asks them to help him build up a support web if he ever starts to get low again. 

Recovery isn’t linear, and things don’t magically get better.

But he is recovering.

**Author's Note:**

> first work, hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
